


Seven

by orphan_account



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Angels, Anlubkbodkckwcoeoddi, Contracts, Demons, ESP, Esper - Freeform, Fairies, Magic, Original Characters - Freeform, Original Story - Freeform, Other, Vampires, Werewolf, Whole new cast, Witch - Freeform, nymph, shape shifter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 16:59:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10701243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Original Story/ Alison has been hiding for two years. Hiding from monsters, demons, angels, vampires, werewolves, faeries, espers, and witches. All of them.But when her hidng place becomes not so safe anymore, she contacts her friends from the other world for help, only to find someone in her school to be recruited into a bad bad organization.HIATUS HIATUS- cause you know... I dunno i was bored.Oh mi god my summary sucks. I'm not even sure aot3 takes original stories.





	Seven

I peak from my hiding spot. A well chosen place nobody would find me in: behind the vending machines. It may be obvious, but people tend to overlook the obvious when they are busying themselves with questionable white powder on their hands. 

My plan is simple: get in, get out.

In reality these mobsters aren't that much of a big deal. All they have is some flour in a bag and some loaded guns. 

No biggie. 

I subconsciously lick my lips and dig my heels into the ground. Readying myself. 

Then, I run. 

Sprinting, I urge my legs to move. Two uncooperative claves voice their complaints loudly. 

" Damn legs. " I say, avoiding a surprised man whose nose was stuck inside white powder seconds ago. Now, it's exploring a whole new sensation: Dislocation. 

" What the fu- " shouts another who stupidly didn't reach for the gun which could've busted a hole through the brains of the kid straddling him. 

" Okay, good night. " I smile slaming my fingers into his neck and hitting a nerve. 

The man instantly goes limp and I quickly jump up to find the remainder of the men surrounding me at gunpoint. A frown on their faces indicate their disapproval of me knocking out two grown men twice my size. Oh, maybe because they were also their friends?

" What do you want btch? " A short, bald and fat man demands, his brows twitch into a funny curve. 

" Entry, " I reply tersely. 

" Don't fck with us btch, " the man laughs and taps his gun mockingly " you should run back home now when you're given a chance. " 

" No, I have buisness here." I say. I see the viens protruding from the man's forehead. He was mad. Mad at a little girl who managed to wipe out two grown armed men. 

" I think you don't know who you're messing with b- " the foul mouthed man smirks and presses the revolver on my head. A pretty old version if you ask me. It even requires you to fit singular bullets in the gun once you run out. I think he have it because it looks classier. " I wonder what your brains would look like when I puncture a fcking hole in your pewny head," his knitted brows unfurls and twist into a sick grin. He definitely has a clear image in his head. 

" Just shut up, " I interrupt. I've seen this trick before. Choosing intimidation for entertainment is a common trait most of them miraculously share. Scare you shtless, and then pull the trigger, but not before a good laugh. It's their way of recreation. It's kinda lame. 

" Btch, I can say whatever I fcking want. " He growls displeased when he doesn't get the expected result. 

" I need to meet your boss. " I state, pushing away the gun like it was just a convincing toy in the clearance aisle of Toys R Us. Well, it could've been because it wouldn't really hurt me. 

" Btch, you've got the audacity to- " the innocuous man says.

I take advantage of the moment of hesitation from the angry man to swipe his gun from his hands and grab his wrist. Executing some sloppy karate moves, I twist his arms in an odd direction and pin it behind his back. There was a little fixable ' Pop ' when I pulled. 

The man let out a wail, and growls at me; a feral glint in his glare. " Btch- " he chokes out. I don't let go. 

" I thought they only taught you to name colors in juvie, not profanity. " I remark, kicking the gun out of the hands of 5 gaping men, then choosing to let go of the man's limp arm. Okay, maybe that was a bit rude, and dislocating his shoulder should be unnecessary, but the man was uncivil, so I dislocate his shoulder. 

" Oh you little btch, " the man's eyes darkens, rational thinking became weighed out by anger and pain. So he lunges at me. 

" Uhg. " I say, startled. And I jump away from the unfriendly hug, roundhouse kicking the man so he would fall sideways instead of on me. ( which would make me very sad because he would be very heavy, and therefore it makes him very hard to get off. ) 

The man was saved from plastic surgery when his friends caught him and held him back. 

" Tell boss, " one of them whispers, and another runs into the entrance of the back alley. 

" Wow, security sure is tight here at Fernando's. " I comment dryly, looking at them with one eyebrows raised and a hand on my waist. ( I try to pop out my hips, but it didn't work.)

Sarcasm is amazing. 

" And it's such a surprise that rivaling gangs would send in a little girl. Who hired you Richy? Marco? " The short man mocked gaining his his composure quickly once he heard back up will be coming. His arms is still painfully angled oddly. He was hunching, covering another wound that I inflicted by kicking his hand. But with his creepy demeanour, poped out shoulders and degrading speech he easily became a member of my hate list. Not that he became the most hated; I meet a lot of people; meaning there's a lot of people to hate. 

" As much as I want to lecture you about your profanation of Fernando's name, let's just get to the point. " I say, ignoring the switch between a sly satisfied grin to a wide-eye infuriated one. I reach into the back pocket of my pants, " I have the token. " 

They all paused, knowing the underlying meaning behind what I just said. 

" To a mere girl? No way, " the man says breaking in cold sweat nervously laughing and gestures for them to shoot me. But the rest of the men look at me with anticipation, expecting something. 

So I give them that something. 

Flicking them a sliver coin I walked in the door. Ignoring the " it's real, " and " no way, " and " that btch, " I give the man nearest to the door a well aimed kick for good measures. 

Like all my other unfortunate recipients, this man cries in pain saying " what gives, " and experiences the precision.

" Just give it a good tug and it'll pop right back out, " I tell him when he tries to find his nuts. Typical. 

I walk in the building and ignore the man coming out here to either greet and give directions, or try to beat me up. I don't need directions, so I walk pass the man and up the stairs. 

Banging open the door unceremoniously I sat myself directly across a middle aged man with thinning hair, round stomach, and iconic pringle mustache. His eyes glued onto the paper on his hand. 

" You have a freindly welcome party. " I say. 

" Did you mess with my nee recruits and come up here for protection from wrath? " He says unsurpised. 

" Yes, but for their protection. " I correct, sinking into the soft but not-too-soft sofa. 

" Whatever you say, " the man says chuckling putting down his papers. He distracts himself by shuffling them and placing the pile on the table. The silence in the room indicate the slight shift in the tempurature of the room. I tighten my fist into a ball, and I don't notice them turning white.

" What brings you back Alison? " He says, a kind sad smile looks at me earnestly. The kind of smile that seems to know everything you're hiding, and feel sorry for you because of it. Sometimes it's a quality I don't like about him, but it's probably his best quality. It's a part of him I have conflicting opinions for, and I don't like that. 

He gives me another prying smile and waits patiently for my answers. But when I say nothing he says it for me, because this was one of those moments where the best thing that could be said was nothing. 

" How long has it been? " He ask softly. He stands up slowly, and I cautiously eye him, too tired to relatilate such an awkward situation with a superficial counter. I've been tired a lot lately; it isn't healthy for me to be, and I know it. 

" Two years. " I reply, finally having eye contact with retired grey eyes, the same grey eyes that has been a father figure to me two years ago. I notice there was the addition of twenty three more wrinkles on his face, and a few more clumps of white hair ( I gave up counting on the hundredth one ) , the deterioration of this once strong man puts a dull ache on my chest. 

But there was so much more that changed with him. He use to have bright eyes, now it's clouded with wisdom and age. He now has less flexibility on his arms, and tissues are missing from his knees. It creaks a little, and I could tell he had surgery on it. He has three more extra scars in additon to his orignal seven. One particularly large gash across his arms that is hidden beneath his whote suit reqiured seven stitches; I can tell by looking at the head of the scar, at his right palm. I'm not autistic, and I don't have the abilities of an autistic savant, but mines are pretty close. Doctors say it's photographic memory ( or something along those lines ), but that won't explain how I get low marks even if I read the entire textbook at school. 

" How's your new family doing? " He say. You don't need to read between hiding his hurt under this question. The hurt of me abandoning everything in this world to chose another more peaceful alternative. Living like back then wasn't something I wanted to do the rest of my life, so I made the hard decisions to leave everything behind.

" I'm sorry, " I mumble, " I just couldn't- " 

" I understand Alison, not everyone likes our world. " He say spreading his arms out; an invite. " And not just anyone can escape it. " 

I crushed him with the embrace; the result of a sobbing reunion. My hands were gripping at the man's once- strong shoulders and I cried over my absence when he aged. I cried over my selfishness, and the three scars he gained. 

He lightly patted my back, reassuringly. " My son was with me," he says reading my mind ( and I don't questions), " it's okay, I understand. " And he keeps the steady soothing pat on my back, adding in an " I understand, " once in a while. 

He let's the moment last a little longer before lightly unhooking my arms and giving me a serious stare. 

" Something big must've happened for you to come back here, " he remarks, looking at me expecting an answer. 

"Ernest, I, " I start before typing a few words onto the keyboard of his computer and pulling up a newspaper post written ten days ago. 

" Dangerous Storms in Halifax prevents aircraft from arrival and departure. " Ernest Fernando reads. 

" It's a cover up for what they did, " I say, verbalizing my frustration. And pain. It's an odd combination, but it's plausible. They coexist, even though I think such feelings are too overwhwlming to be healthy, and they probably are the factors of imprudent actions. Thus, the reason I come to Fernando's for consultant.

" Who are ' they ' ? " Fernando questions looking at me. 

" The reason why I'm here, " I reply.

Pointing at the map of my current home I start to explain from the start.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! Thanks for giving this a chance


End file.
